Dramatically Sexy
by Kelyse Llewes
Summary: OCxOC. Sequel to Book Sexy. Melody Barrows fell in love with Chase Hamilton a long time ago. Chase Hamilton fell out of love with Melody a year ago. The question she's asking now: Why is he suddenly back? Join the Book Sexy cast once again. Please R&R. :D
1. The One That Got AwayAgain

_Dramatically Sexy_

**Chapter One: The One that Got Away...Again**

It all started with a dream. I walked up on stage in front of hundreds of people, ready to sing an aria unlike anything my avid audience had ever heard before. I walked center stage in the exquisite, tailor-made dress trailing behind me in yards of satin fabric. I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, opening my mouth to sing the first note. And nothing comes out. NOTHING COMES OUT!

I couldn't breathe, I felt my knees weaken and collapse beneath me. I clutched my throat wanting to scream to reassure myself my voice was there. My voice was everything to me. If I was silent I would die. This was the moment I was dying. I croaked. Nothing more...

I woke up screaming that night. It was almost reassuring that I could scream in reality. But not being able to scream in my subconscious was nonetheless worrying. I didn't like the idea. I didn't like it one bit.

I brushed the covers aside and sat up. All alone. It had been a total of five years since school and a total of one year since I had been on my own. I was making my way, but let's face it, I'm an artist and artists do not take rejection well. I was convinced for one month after he had left me that he was just on a business trip. I guess it was denial and trying anything to get over the fact he was really gone.

I padded to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I hated dreaming like that. I hated dreaming period. There was always the impending 'what if?' of everything. I didn't exactly believe in it, but I knew someone who did who would take that stuff very seriously. Allie told me after her happily ever after with best friend Jase that the dreams she'd had in the seven months of relationship pause between the two of them, actually gave her insight into the final outcome. Now she was all Zen this and Zen that and sometimes it was a bit much. I loved her and all, but she'd become a relationship expert, or she pretended to at least. Her and Jase were still happier than ever, sickeningly so. I had thought my happily ever after had come true. It turned out I was wrong.

Chase Hamilton was sexy, gorgeous and everything I had ever hoped for in a man. He made me laugh unlike anyone, and his sexy smile was the constant fixation of many of my daydreams. Alas there were still daydreams, but no more Chase.

I'd cried my tears though and as I dried my face with a towel and looked up I pushed back the final thoughts of that dream and decided to make these early morning hours, that I hadn't intended on being awake for, as useful as I could make them.

I walked down the hall of my London flat towards the kitchen. I would need coffee to get through these 'before-dawn' hours. I listened to the pot brew and glanced around my flat. It seemed so different than where I'd been living just a year ago. Chase's high-end London condo had been something else. I don't mean to brag, but it would have totally fit my lifestyle when I make it big on the London stage. I have yet to get there as of right now, but I am not giving up. And Chase believed in me. He just didn't believe in me enough to stick around. He wanted serious. His father wanted serious. I was artist, not serious. So he left.

My new flat was...well...flat. There was one floor, which was different. I was on the top floor, which meant stairs to get to up but none once I reached it. I had never had that before. Home, Hogwarts, Chase, each place I had lived always had stairs in the actually home itself. Not here though. That was weird to me. I had a kitchen, a living area, a studio, set up as my own private theatre and recording room, the bathroom and then my room. The end. Nothing more. I didn't even have a laundry room. I had to go down to the main floor to do my laundry, lugging all my knock-off designer clothes up and down the four flights of stairs. Now that was definitely something I had never had before.

My coffee had finished percolating and I poured myself a nice big cup of steaming black cup of Joe. Tea would have to wait for 9am when I made my way out the door to the theatre. I had a regular job at the theatre while I was waiting for my big break. I was hostess. I would take tickets, organize coats and the like. It wasn't glamorous, but it was a stepping stone.

I opened the door to my studio and breathed in the scent of my purpose here on earth. I really hadn't needed all the magical schooling of Hogwarts. I knew my life would never take a turn towards the magic. I was magic, I knew magic, but my magic was in voice and gesture only. I would sing. I would talk. I would turn worlds on soliloquies and provoke tears of joy with the kisses and laughter I would produce on stage. That was my world. This was my world.

I shut the door to my studio and walked over to an antique settee couch that I had purchased two days after Chase had left me. That had been a good day. Almost. This settee was testament to that day. It had become my writing bubble. On this couch I had written many songs that would one day end up in a stage musical that would shake the world to its very foundations.

I picked up my journal, a gift from my friends during one of our school years. It had been a brilliant gift, never-ending pages for my never-ending ideas. I had just added the finishing touches to a song and I thought that this morning might be the perfect time to add some music to it.

I picked up my guitar and took my lyrics over to my piano. Pulling out my want I tapped the piano. It came to life before my eyes, a handy advantage of magic, and started playing the exact tune I needed. I sat down on the piano stool a brought the guitar to me. I started strumming and plucking the strings according to the tune I required. I tweaked here and there where I thought the song needed it. As soon as I had my musical score memorized and perfected I opened up my lyrics book and began to sing.

My parents must have had some strange premonition or foresight when they named me Melody. I was singing before I could speak words, but as soon as those words formed I was repeating Shakespearean sonnets instead of my ABCs. I was gifted. I was sent to a juniors music conservatory at the age of seven. I spent four years there before learning of my magical heritage. I went off to Hogwarts to become a mistress of the wand as well as of word and song. I went back to the musical conservatory for some weeks out of the summer for the next seven years. I had a gift.

I must have spent little over 2 hours tweaking and playing with the tune to get it just right. By the time I set down my guitar and picked up my now cold cup of coffee, the sun was rising over the rooftops and chimneys of London. I walked over to the window, took a deep breath, and then left the room. There used to be time and effort that I would put in to watching the sun rise. But not today. Not anymore really. I had taken life's simple pleasures and turned them on their ears. I had to get to work.

I was dressed and pouring myself a cup of coffee to go to work when the phone rang. It was hard to live in muggle London trying to get on any stage without the necessity of a muggle phone. The only time I had ever lived without one was in Hogwarts. My mother was muggle and so in our home we always had one. I could think of only two people who would call me at this early hour. One seemed more likely than the other so I picked up the receiver in greeting.

"Gigi, what are you doing up so early?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"Answer my question, Gigi, I have to get to work."

"Okay, okay, fine. I have a dilemma. I need your opinion."

"Go on, and make it snappy. I have two minutes to get to work."

"His name is Darius O'Reilly. He is dangerous and sort of exotic, but really from northern Scotland. He plays a guitar like the devil, drinks like a fish and wears dark eye make-up when rocking on stage with his band of misfits. Should I go for him?"

"Hmm, is he a muggle?" I asked.

"Yes. I also have this issue that he might be too much like my father. My father introduced me to him it's that bad."

"It's not that bad. Muggle and witch marriages happen every day. I say go for it."

"Really?"

"Really Gigi, you have nothing to lose."

"Except my heart if he can't get over the fact that I am a witch. It's happened before."

"Also true, but you'll never know until you try. Take your own advice Gigi. Can I come over tonight? We can talk more." I was running out of time. The clock on the wall said one minute to nine.

"Sure, what time's the show over?" Gigi asked.

"Ten. Is that too late?"

"No, I'll pick you up. See you then."

"Okay, bye. Good luck," I wished her.

"You too," she wished me back. I hung up the phone, grabbed my coat and Apparated while running.

I was still late. My boss, Mr. Craven, an old and balding man with sharp ears and diminishing eyesight, was a very punctual man who expected the same from his employees. If he ever heard me sing, or listened to me long enough to let me talk him into listening to me sing, he might just change his mind about me. He was waiting for me at the front desk.

"Ms. Barrows, this is unacceptable." I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "If you ever intend to be on the stage, you'll learn to be on time. Please recall that in the future, Ms. Barrows. We are running a business."

As he walked away I made a face at his back. This made me feel fractionally better. I removed my coat, straightened the vibrant red dress I'd chosen for today and stood behind the desk awaiting the morning rush of actors and actresses who sometimes arrived through the front instead of the stage entrance. If I were lucky enough to enter through the stage entrance, I would do so every single day. What an honour.

Rosemaria Cruz arrived first. She was a good friend. A fellow witch working under the pretence that she was a muggle, and a marvellous actress, Rosie Cruz took the edge off of working for the horrible Mr. Craven.

"Melody, darlin'," she greeted me, exasperating her words, as only a true actress would. "How are you? Tolerating the world of theatre?"

"Always, Rosie, always, and I am ceaselessly enduring the constant harassment of our beloved Mr. Craven." I eyed the direction of where Mr. Craven disappeared to count his coins no doubt.

"Bertie is awfully dull in the way he runs business. I wish I could have seen him on the stage. Word on the street is he would light the entire theatre up with laughter and would stir the most cold-hearted of men to shrivelling balls of tears. Quite earth-shattering I would say, and I have it on good authority."

I quirked my eyebrow and asked, "What authority?"

Rosie gestured me closer to her and she dropped her voice to whisper, "His wife. Dorva Craven is a delightful woman and I very much enjoy our tea parties together."

Our laughter twinkled in the great lobby of the Grand Theatre. I envied Rosie, who would frolic with actors and actresses backstage before the matinee performance and then between the matinee and the evening performance. I would stand out front and greet those who would come to see those actors and actresses. I would be forbidden to see the play. In the year since I had come to work here I had only every seen one production in all the 27 productions on the Grand Theatre stage. I could weep if I wanted to but I was resigned to saving my tears for the stage, should I ever need them.

I was leaning over the front desk by eight thirty. I had just admitted four hundred people into the theatre for the evening show. Those numbers plus the three hundred for the matinee made seven hundred people equalled really sore feet. I knew there was a reason why I should never wear heels on Saturdays. Every other day of the week meant only one show a night, which wasn't so bad. But two shows a day on Saturdays made for a very, very, very tired Melody. I was about to kick off my shoes and let my feet rest when the front door to the Grand opened again. I groaned thinking, not another one. Didn't these people ever stop? I had seen enough fur shawls and diamond earrings to last me a lifetime.

I looked further and saw that the newcomer was a man; another man in an Armani suit with rich Italian shoes. I loved men like that but ever since Chase I hadn't been able to get up the courage to date. He'd blown a hole in the middle of my young life. I hated him and yet I loved him at the same time. If I ever saw him again...

Shit!

I finally noticed who it was walking towards me. I finally saw the flawless skin, the honey-gold hair, the broad shoulders, the fine-tailored suit and the finally smelled the sandalwood scent that wafted up the stairs. His eyes were obscured by the sunglasses but I still knew it was him. He was the man who I hated and loved. I would have to make up my mind right now to either slap him or kiss him...

Chase Hamilton, the wealthy entrepreneur from a family with loads of money, was walking towards me...again. The only thing was after the first time he'd walked away, in school, I could handle that because he said he was having family issues. But the second time he'd walked away from me had stung a lot. I had thought time and again that I would probably never forgive this man. He didn't deserve my forgiveness. He'd have to earn it, if he wanted it, that is. Which he might not.

I sighed and stood up straighter to greet him as my job dictated. I wouldn't betray any hint of emotional attachment. I was an actress for Merlin's sake, and I would show him just who was winning this time.

He reached the booth where I sat on the other side. "Good evening, sir. You're a little late but I'll alert an usher and he'll show you to your seat. Is there anyone else in your party?"

A crooked smile appeared on his face. That smile had been the cause of several encounters of a personal nature over the years. He could make me melt with the single tipping of his lips and I would succumb to almost anything he proposed. But not this time.

He spoke. "Melody," his voice rasped as he said my name. He was entirely too handsome for his own good. "You're looking well."

"Yes, I am well, thank you. Now if you please, I'm not allowed to converse with guests on the job. Which seat?" I knew avoiding his question would only amuse him. So I answered. Then I continued with business because I knew my personal life was off limits to him now.

He continued to smile. "Then perhaps we can meet after you get off later?"

"No, we can't," I replied curtly, avoiding looking at him, "I'm meeting someone later."

His mouth tightened. "A man?"

My eyes narrowed. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Hamilton." I sighed, knowing that he would never relent in wondering who I was going to be with tonight. "If you must know, I am meeting Gigi after the show."

He simply nodded. "Tomorrow then? I have something I'd like to discuss with you, Melody."

"Now what could you possibly have to discuss me with me, of all people, Chase?" I stared at him with questioning eyes. His motives eluded me, and as far as I was concerned, they could continue to elude me. He had caused me nothing but trouble in the past year. And in my books that was one year too many.

"Melody," he growled a low warning. I was frustrating him. Well good, he needed a run for his money if he asked me. I knew it was bad to try his patience, but I really saw no reason to agree with him on anything at the moment.

So, I growled back at him, in what was sure to be marked down as a very childish response, "Chase."

This seemed to amuse him, as I was sure it would when I'd done it. I hated seeing him win, and yet when he smiled it brought me such joy. I never showed it today though.

"Melody, we are past all things. We have too much history to go about with these silly games. Grant me this small favour and I'll grant you one."

My curiosity piqued. "What small favour could you grant me?" I racked my mind and I could come up with many things that Chase could do for me that he might call a 'small favour'. Still he knew my hearts desires sometimes better than I knew them myself, he must be baiting me. I braced myself for what might very well be the greatest opportunity that has ever been presented to me.

"You come tomorrow," he said with a sly smile tipping the corners of his mouth again, "and you'll find out."

No that just did it. He certainly had baited me. He knew me too well to know that I wouldn't be able to resist. Well perhaps I would give him something to sweat about and arrive three hours late dressed to the nines. I smiled lightly, "What time?"

"Noon, at the condo. Oh you do remember the address?"

I glowered at him, hoping he'd find my stare intimidating. "You know I remember the address, Hamilton, you wanker." I shoved the pamphlet towards him. "Find your own seat."

He took the pamphlet with a sort of nonchalance that I used to adore about him, but I now found extremely irritating. "Ah, Melody, you must realize that you look incredibly cute when you look upset." And he walked away without a backwards glance.

I had a hankering to throw something at the back of his head as he walked the stairs towards the auditorium, but I restrained myself. I wouldn't let him get the better of me. I was better than that. Instead I stomped a foot and walked straight into the cloakroom. I took out my want, soundproofed the room, and screamed my head off.

An hour and a half later I had handed back every fur shawl, satin wrap and expensive cloak in the cloakroom. I waved my goodbye to Mr. Craven, who found my running and hopping to take my heels off one at a time very inappropriate. I was running barefoot out into the street when a car pulled up in front of me. I opened the door, slid in and the car shot off.

"Have a nice day at work, sweetheart?"

Gigi was grinning at me like a fool. And she was driving like a maniac. She had always been one of the rowdier of us five. Allie was the bookworm, still is. I'm the dramatic and musically inclined. Starr is the athlete and glamorous. Victoire is still all bows and frills though she has developed a sense of contemporary fashion as part of her work regiment. And I am somewhere in the middle. We all fit and yet none of us fits.

"I had a wonderful day, honey. Give me seven hundred people, six inch heels for twelve hours and Chase Hamilton dropping by any day."

"Whoa," Gigi said, turning the corner at break-neck speed. "Chase was there?"

"Had a ticket for the show apparently. He has something he wants to discuss with me tomorrow."

"You're not going right? Man, I really liked Chase too, now he's just being an ass." Gigi turned another corner, slowing down a fraction. We were nearing her building.

"You're telling me. He has the balls to ask me for a favour when he walked out on me like that. I really, like really, wanted to slap him."

"Yep, makes sense. I would have slapped him. No, I'm lying; I would have punching his lights out." Gigi made an aggressive move switching lanes and dodging a small yellow car in lieu of turning left into the underground parking lot of her building.

I sighed and got out of the car when she parked. "I know you would have. I totally would have let you too. I wish I wasn't affected by him still. He emanates sexy."

"So do you though," Gigi remarked as she unlocked the door to the basement level. We walked around the corner to the lift. "Do you think he's still affected by you?" The lift doors clinked open and we climbed in. I had always loved Gigi's building and I was so jealous that when I'd come looking for an apartment a year ago, none of them were available. It seemed that everyone else in London loved this building too.

"If he is still affected by me, he isn't showing it. He's abusing his power over me. That crooked smile, those sparkling eyes, his scent...it's all quicksand."

The lift doors clinked again as we reached Gigi's floor. We walked out onto a small room that had 3 doors in it. Each door belonged to another tenant. Gigi was in the apartment to the left.

"What you need is another eye candy, honey," Gigi said as she unlocked her door and swung it open.

"Ugh, that is the last thing I need. I can't even think about the possibility of being with someone else right now, let alone actually dating somebody. Chase screwed me over and when he drove that stake into my heart, he really aimed well." I went through the entrance way to Gigi's living room, depositing my shoes and coat at the door. I plopped my butt down on the very spacious and comfortable couch waiting for Gigi to follow-suit. "Tell me what to do, Gigi."

"No, uh-huh, I'm getting advice from you, not the other way around. I suck at advice. The advice I would give would probably be something like sock-him-in-the-jaw advice, which I know you won't like." She sat down on the couch beside me.

"Fine," I admonished, knowing she was right. "Then you have to tell me if I should be punctual tomorrow or wait like three hours before I show up?"

"Ooh, this I can do. Show up three hours late in that gold-sequined top and those black leather leggings that you wore for my twentieth birthday." She looked devious.

I laughed, "Done. I was planning on dressing to within an inch of his sanity anyway, and this is perfect."

"Glad to be of assistance. Now help me!" She looked like she was going to fall apart.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Tell me about Darius O'Reilly."


	2. The Offer

**Chapter Two: The Offer**

I arrived just as Gigi had advised me, three hours late and dressed in my gold shirt and black leggings, as well as another pair of six inch peek-toe heels that made my legs go on for days. I Apparated to just outside Chase's condo building and the doorman unfortunately recognized me and buzzed Chase to let him know I was here. From the receiver I heard the distinct Chase-grunt and harsh, clipped tone, indicating he was less than impressed by my fashionable lateness.

I was escorted up nine floors in the lift. From memory, or habit, I couldn't really tell, I turned to the right and walked down the hall. The number 910 was burned into my retina and upon seeing it again I shuddered to think of the time I'd first been in this gorgeous building. He'd picked the building, but I had wanted to make a home here with him. I took every single thing I owned when he told me I wasn't what he was looking for in a partner and wife. The rooms I would enter now would be mine and yet not mine at the same time.

I tapped my stiletto on the marble floor, knowing I wouldn't have to knock if he was so upset and eager to see me. He'd be at the door the moment I was on the floor. I was right too, because a second later he appeared in the doorway, broad-shouldered and intimidating.

I gave him my best lazy smile and allowed a few moments for his gaze to drift over my figure. He always did have a good appreciation of art and music, so it went without saying that he had excellent taste in women. I was a prime example of a woman. There were women more beautiful than I was, but I knew what I was and I had never tried to hide the fact.

"You're lucky it's Sunday, Melody," Chase gritted his teeth. "Or else I wouldn't have stayed waiting for you like this. To what do I owe your late arrival?" He stepped back and bade me enter.

I was right...this apartment was familiar, yet it wasn't mine. Masculinity hung around every corner. He had taken our home and turned it into a cold, clean, and abstract work of art. It was harshly beautiful and somehow it suited him. But it would never suit me.

I turned back to Chase and said flippantly, "I couldn't be bothered to rush. A pair of shoes has to match the outfit you know?" I smiled the innocent smile once again. These heels would bring my height to about his eye level. I stood just over 5 feet 7 inches. The six inch heels brought me to just over 6 feet 1 inch, which made Chase at least 6 feet 3 inches. Yet still he glared down at me with that overpowering, executive stare that he had inherited from his father.

"You hold too much stock in the effectiveness of clothes, Melody. You and I both know that I would still look at you the same way if you wore track pants and an oversized T-shirt, or better yet, nothing at all." He walked past me towards the sitting area.

The sexual tension between us made the air crackle with electricity. Damn him for mentioning that, for making me feel like this, and for still affecting me as he did. I should have been immune to his charms after all these years and the reckless way I'd been tossed aside. But I wasn't, and I feared I never would.

I followed him over and plopped myself down on one of the new couches, one that was all rectangles and all solid male design. "You refurnished." I remarked because I couldn't let the arid silence impede my ability to think any longer.

"You left me little choice." Chase was back to using that clipped, frustrated tone of voice. I almost wanted to smile. At least I was irritating him. That made his affect on me some worth it somehow.

I got fed up with the small talk. I hated walking around a subject that was staring me in the face. It wasn't my style. "What is it you want to discuss, Chase? I don't have all day." I did in fact have all day, but he didn't need to know that. I'd rather have him think I was busy all day, every day, and make him jealous as hell at my sparkling social life. Ugh, it was sad how opposite it really all was. He didn't need to know that though.

"Same old Melody, eh?" Chase remarked before settling back, folding his arms across his chest, stretching the white linen shirt tight. He was in his business mode now. His business mode was so sexy. But his tone was solemn, sadness leaking through and revealing the little emotions he was feeling. "My mother is sick."

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. Shit! Marian Gordon, formerly Marian Hamilton before the divorce to Chase's father, was a good-hearted and loving woman. I never bore Marian any ill-will when Chase and I split up a year ago. I had even tried to stay in touch with her. That hadn't gone as well as I planned though. There were just too many risks with potentially seeing Chase. I didn't think he would have wanted me around, knowing I wasn't suitable for him. So I stopped seeing her. And now this...

"Shit, Chase, I didn't know. Is it serious?"

Chase nodded. "Healers have given her until the end of the year."

I closed my eyes as the words sunk in. She only had four months to live.

I had always loved Marian. She was only just fifty-six years-old and a few months ago when I had seen her she'd been full of life and vitality. "What happened? What is it?"

He shook his head, "They aren't exactly sure. Something to do with her pancreas, and I've been fighting with the reality that she won't live to see her next birthday for weeks." He shoved his hands through his hair, a sign that he was giving up with control and just running on pure emotion now. "God damnit!" he stood up and walked over to the windows that looked out over the West End.

I fought the urge to go to him and wrap my arms around him. I was fighting still when I rose and walked over to him. I couldn't hold him, I wouldn't hold him, and so I set my hand on his arm. I didn't know if the power of touch could heal hurts like this; I didn't think so, but I really hoped it helped. His hand wrapped itself over mine and we stood there for the longest time, just trying to process this information.

This was not what I had expected. I was resolved to thinking the worst of him because he'd left me, because he'd crushed my loving soul. But this had nothing to do with us. This was for his mother, I could see that now. I got up the courage to speak again. My words were weak and shaky, but I soldiered on. "What can I do to help, Chase?"

He turned to look at me. His eyes reached in and brought to life something I had locked up deep inside of me. My compassion for him, my primal female nature to take care of him when he looked so lost and wounded. I had seen him like this only once before in my life. It was a night I would never forget. But I wouldn't draw on those memories now. It wasn't the time or place.

"I hadn't meant for you to come here and be sympathetic towards me," he told me, his voice cracking as he spoke. "This is for my mother."

I nodded, "I understand, Chase. That doesn't change anything."

He looked thoughtful, as if contemplating the idea that I could possibly understand what he was asking. "I believe you will," he finally said softly. Then with more conviction he continued, "I have never seen her happier than the times when we were together with her. Those outings we went on, afternoon tea, visits, etcetera."

I could only nod. What was he getting at?

"I have moved Mum from intensive care in St. Mungos and transported her to her favourite place."

"Saint-Raphael," I whispered knowingly.

Chase's eyes lit up a little when I uttered the name of the town in the Mediterranean. It was if my knowing that little bit of information about his mother brought him momentary and unparalleled joy. I suppose he had never realized just how close I had become to Marian. "Yes. I leave to stay with her for a few weeks on Wednesday." He paused and then took my hand in his. "I would like you to come with me, to stay with my mother. Will you?"

I inhaled sharply. This was what he was asking? And I had three days to decide. As much as I longed to be with Marian again, to comfort her, being with Chase in such close proximities was a terrifying thought. I didn't think I could trust him again, at least not with my whole heart. But how long would it take me to trick myself into believing it could happen again? Like the denial at the end a year ago, how long would it take me to convince myself that he was all worth it? I didn't know. I didn't want to risk it. But... "What about my job?" It was the only excuse I could use that would make any sense to him.

"You won't need it anymore. I can support you for the next few months. And as part of my proposal and thanks for doing this for me, I can get you an audition."

Audition? I pulled my hand from his and narrowed my gaze, suddenly suspicious, "What audition?"

"A business associate of mine is highly thought of in the West End, and he knows a few productions that will need a leading lady come January. He owes me a favour, and I can guarantee you an audition. If you impress even in the smallest amount, you'll have a part."

I attempted to look pensive while my mind started screaming at me all the reasons why I should do it as well as all the reasons I shouldn't do it. By some strange trick of fate I discovered the reasons I should do it seemed to outweigh why I shouldn't. This was bad.

Pros: I would get a part in a play. I wouldn't have to work at the Grand anymore, not that that was struggle most of the time. I would get to spend the next little while on the French Riviera. And I would be doing this for Marian, not for Chase.

Cons: I would have to endure Chase and the ever mounting sexual tension between us despite the fact that I loathed him with all my soul for what he had done to me. I would also be relying on Chase to get my start in the theatre, something that he could hold against me at any time for favours.

I came out of my percolations to find Chase staring at me. Ugh, this was exactly what I was afraid of. While his looking at me did little when I didn't notice, it was when I noticed that turned back time. I didn't want that feeling anymore. My knees did a quick wobble as I peered into the gorgeous eyes before I regained some kind of self-propriety. I would stand strong. This was my life and it was a life that no longer included Chase Hamilton. Well...for the most part anyways...at least until January when...shit.

I held onto my composure and tried not to think about Marian's depleting lifespan. I looked back to Chase, whose gaze had thankfully moved to an alternate venue, and found myself saying, "I need to go home and pack."

His face fell to mine. He looked anxious and relieved at the same time. "You're coming with me?"

I smiled lightly, putting my acting face on once more, for fear of him seeing right through me, as he often could. "I am. I couldn't deny Marian this. On one condition though?"

"Anything," he exhaled. "Ask and it's yours."

"We are not a couple, Chase. We were a couple, but not anymore. I will reside with you. I will entertain and take care of your mother with you, but that does not mean I forgive you, nor does it mean I can trust you. Do we have an understanding?"

He nodded, but I could see it in his eyes that he was getting cocky again. He had always been beautiful, and he knew he was a charmer. He had never flaunted that quality, until I came into the picture. He was gracious and elegant and sophisticated, but he was arrogant as hell knowing he could affect me like this. Well to hell with him, I thought, he wouldn't be winning this round.

I raised my eyebrow, turned and walked towards the door. Our conversation was over. I would come with him, and each day would be a trial against him, and I wouldn't weaken. "I'll meet you here on Wednesday," I tossed over my shoulder. "Ring me with the time when you figure it out."

"I know what time, Melody. I can give you that information now."

I heard the flicker of amusement in his voice and ground my teeth together to prevent an irrational reaction. He could really just tick me off sometimes. I faced him again. "You're not very efficient, Hamilton," I remarked.

"You're not very patient, Barrows."

Touché. I never really had been though, why should this surprise him now?

He sauntered over to a small table in the hallway, pulled out a pen and pad of paper, scribbled down the information, and replaced the items in the drawer. He took the few strides to where I was standing. I was holding back the urge to tap my stiletto heel on the marble floor as I waited for him. It sounded so wrong in my mind, and impatient. My resilience was being tested today on many things.

Chase lazily held out the piece of paper with the scribbled information. I reached out to take it from him. I grasped it and tugged, but he wouldn't let go. I looked from the paper to his smouldering gaze and I nearly fell over. These physical reactions to this man were beginning to get on my nerves. And I didn't just mean literally.

"Don't be late, Mel," Chase smirked, using the nickname that I hated. I hated being called Mel. I hated all the nicknames that people gave me. I liked being called Melody, the name I was given at birth.

"Piss off, Chase," I snarled, snatching the paper quickly from him. Again this entertained him, but instead of entertaining him further, I left the apartment with more promptness than I had arrived.

I would have to remember for future reference that encounters with Chase were better handled as one would handle a band-aid; rip quickly to get it the heck off. The slow and meandering types of meetings with Chase would have to be avoided; they tested my temper, my patience, and my passion far too easily.

When the lift hit the ground level I shot out of the building, trying to get as far away from Chase as humanly possible. I would take the next two days before joining Chase in the French Riviera to re-evaluate my life choices and see if this was really worth it. It seemed like it. But my choices were often shrouded with hidden meaning that I couldn't see most of the time. I would have to ask someone wise and with enough reason and level-headedness to make sure I didn't flake out and seriously screw up my life. Allie would know what to do.

It shouldn't have surprised me to find Allie sitting down reading when I got to the house. Jase had answered the door and I must have looked a little frazzled because he led me through to Allie right away without hesitation or inquiry.

"Alls, Melody's here," he announced when we walked through to the den where Allie was curled up contently reading a gigantic tome that looked about a hundred years old.

"Melody!" Allie jumped up, to hug me and gestured for me to sit down in the seat across from her. "Fancy seeing you here. What brings you over on a Sunday?"

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped, looking to my side where Jase was still standing. I smiled at him, hoping he'd get the idea that this was a strictly female conversation. He understood and chuckled as he turned to go. "I will leave you to it then."

"Thanks Jase," I yelled after him. "I hope I didn't offend him," I said, turning back to Allie.

She waved it away, "He's used to it. This must be quite the issue. Usually Jase doesn't bother you."

"He's a man, and I am pissed off at all men right now, simply because of one particular man and his insensitivity and arrogant behaviour towards me." I stated this plainly and watched as Allie's eyes widened and then came to understanding.

"What's Chase done this time?"

I was ever so thankful that she knew me so well. "His mother is sick."

"Oh gosh, I hope it's not serious."

"It is. They say she won't make it past Christmas."

Allie's hand clasped over her mouth in shock. Marian and Allie had met at several occasions throughout the years and although they didn't know each other well, Allie had always admired the woman. "Shit, Melody, that's awful news."

I nodded solemnly. "Yeah, you're telling me. I can hardly believe it."

"How's Chase taking it?" she asked.

"He's holding together, but his resolve is slowly deteriorating. He's asked me to move in with him for the next couple of months. To go down to Saint-Raphael for a few weeks, perhaps even a month. That's where he's transferred Marion. It's her favourite place in the world. And apparently her happiest memories include Chase and me." I paused to let Allie process the information, exhaling deeply. "Tell me what to do."

Allie looked thoughtful for a moment and then looked at me again. "What do you want to do?"

"Bugger off, I hate reverse psychology! Why do you have to do that? Just because you've become a 'Zen master' doesn't mean you have to 'turn the tables'. _I_ asked _you_!"

She lightly chuckled, folded her hands in her lap where the book was sitting again. "I'm still not that great at advice, you know? You guys coached me through a lot, and I still ended up somewhat of a mess. It took me a long time to get my head together. Jase helped a lot, but in the end, I turned to meditation to give me that peace of mind. Giving you peace of mind by just telling you something to do won't help. It's your life, not mine."

I raised my eyebrow at her, "Humour me, Allyson, or I will stab you."

She laughed out loud at my melodrama. She was used to this. I on the other hand was not quite used to her meditation...thing. I was hoping it was just a phase.

"Okay. My best advice then, Melody, without any pre-meditation or serious thought, as can only be gleaned from meditation, would be to ride it out. You don't know if things will get better or worse than before. But slap that man for me because I swear to god if you come back to me crying your eyes out, I will tear his genitals off." She released a deep breath.

"Do you feel better now, honey?" I asked her after she finished her rant that started out slow and calm but ended in a rage with her long brown hair waving all over the place.

"Yeah, I do. Wow that felt great!"

I threw my arms around her, "Zen really isn't your thing honey. But thanks so much for the advice. It's perfect."

We were still hugging when we heard a small knock on the doorframe leading towards the hallway. Jase was standing there with a confused look on his face. But as soon as he saw that neither of us were crying (I'm pretty sure that's what flashed through his mind when he came in) he cleared his throat. "I was just going to let you know that dinner is ready. Staying Melody?"

His innocent smile was infectious. "What's for dinner, then?" I smiled.

"You'll have to wait and see," he joked as he turned to walk back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Allie laughed. I turned and pretended to look offended. Allie noticed and said, "Oh please. It's not going to be something awful. He does that to me all the time. I'm always surprised and I always love it."

I held out my arm to her, as a gentleman does to a lady he's escorting, and said with a pompous-sounding accent, "Shall we do dinner then?" I bowed slightly.

Allie shook her head as she laughed. Playing along she curtseyed and raised her nose slightly higher than was considered normal and replied, "I'd be delighted."

Arm-in-arm we shuffled down the hallway, as only friends who'd known each other for twelve years could: laughing the whole way.

Allie's counsel had been pretty uplifting, despite her lack of experience in handing out advice. She had been the one to need my help, all of our help, back in school when she was having a damn tricky time trying to convince Jase and herself that a relationship was worth pursuing. Back then Jase had been thicker than molasses in January, and Allie was convinced that she'd never mean anything more to him than a good friend. Best friends and nothing more. But she had taken one step at a time and found herself not only in love with him, but also discovered that he had loved her for a long time, too. We had been giving her the advice. This time it was her turn to give the help, and she'd done a stellar job so far.

Tomorrow I'd tackle Chase. Tomorrow I'd worry about the time I would have to spend with him. Tomorrow I'd worry about the state of panic I was going to be in come Wednesday when we left for Saint-Raphael. Tonight I was among friends.


	3. The Round Table and Memories

**Chapter Three: The Round Table and Memories**

The Tuesday before Doomsday, as I had aptly named it, mostly due to the fact that I was sort of losing my independence, and also because there was nobody I would rather avoid than Chase Hamilton, I arranged a little girls-get-together. I had seen Allie and Gigi mostly because they live right around where I live, but I hadn't seen Starr or Victoire for a number of weeks. And as I was going to be going through withdrawal in the next weeks, perhaps even months, I needed my girls fix and support before I buried myself in shame for ever agreeing to go with Chase.

We were meeting at a little café called The Twisted Broomstick. It was a little reminiscent of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, where we had spent a lot of time in our youth at school, but this café was not dark and crowded as the Three Broomsticks had always been. It was light and airy, and though not at all close to where I was working, it was close to Victoire and Starr in Diagon Alley.

Our little group of friends had done pretty well after Hogwarts, which is to say we went on to be bigger and brighter in the outer world. At least my friends had. I was still undecided on the matter of whether or not I was being truly successful in my endeavours.

Victoire graduated with full honours from Hogwarts, working her little butt off to receive those top marks and scholarships to one of the best wizarding universities in the area, Glengrove Academy in northern Scotland. She went through Business Management, surprisingly enough, something I had never pictured her doing, and afterwards went to work professionally for a fashion design company called _Mystique_. After working at _Mystique_ for a year and a half, she gleaned enough know-how and smarts, plus her Business degree, to open her own little shop in Diagon Alley, partially funded by her large and ever expanding family, as well as a small loan from Gringotts. Now she is the sole proprietor and manager of _Trés Chic. _It has been doing very well for the year it has been in business, and I always find myself perusing the clothing racks when I come by now and again. She has about seven people working for her to mass produce the clothes, a feat that is actually quite simple when you add magic and skilled seamstresses, as Vic does. She is also discussing the idea of a franchise with some big investors now.

Starr went on to follow her dream after Hogwarts and play Quidditch. She took her skills learned in school and created a name for herself among the _Appleby Arrows_. Her team didn't do as well as she would have liked at last year's Quidditch World Cup playoffs. They made it to the semi-finals, but lost to the Wimbourne Wasps, who have had a rivalry going with the Arrows since long before Starr got there. She did her best and was named MVP of the league year however, which made the rest of us very proud, and Starr realized that she was doing something she loved, but didn't love enough to stay in it. Now she manages an equally successful Quidditch team, the _Kenmare Kestrals_, an Irish team. They are an Irish team but Starr manages them quite successfully from the League offices in Diagon Alley in London. She makes regular trips to Ireland but knows that England will always be her home.

I'm ever so proud of her as well. Not only did she accomplish her dream, but she is now taking that knowledge of being a player and putting it to good use. When we first learned she would be giving up her dream of playing Quidditch, we were all pretty bummed. But within a week of quitting, Starr had already handed out resumes and gotten seventeen interviews for management positions. She was expired as a Quidditch player, but far from being passed over as a professional with super know-how.

Allie buried her nose in books as soon as she graduated; the typical Allie thing to do. She also moved past the whole 'Nikki incident' and began meditating. She was convinced, as in really cemented to the idea that her rage would impact her future negatively, so she would repeal the rage and try to be at peace with her past. And she has continued this resolve for the past five years. The phase I was hoping for has lasted a long time and I am hoping for an intervention, but none of us have the heart to tell her. Even Jase is tip-toeing around the issue. On more than one occasion he has mentioned to the rest of us that he is sort of worried about Allie. Their relationship is stronger than ever, but the whole meditation and Zen stuff freaks him out a bit. I am inclined to agree with him. There will come a time when we're going to have to whack some sense into her. It won't be the first time, and I doubt it will be the last time.

Allie, when not contemplating peace and butterflies and happy thoughts, or whatever it is she contemplates, has taken over a book-editing position at _Properly Publishing_, founded by the famously wealthy recluse Perryweather Properly. His daughter, Paton Properly oversees the company and hired Allie right out of school. Paton recognized Allie as Timothy Graham's daughter, a man who has often given his opinion on several historical based fictional novels, and thought Allie would be a credible asset to the company. Allie was honoured, and we all stood behind her 100%.

Gigi is probably the only person whose situation resembled mine to start out with. It hasn't ended like that, but at the beginning Gigi did a lot of wandering, much like me. She traveled the world on her motorcycle, the one she had before she bought her sensible little hellion of a car, and saw the sights she always wanted to see. She didn't fight any crocodiles or climb Mount Everest, but she knocked out a drunk German in Budapest and scaled a rickety old rope bridge in Peru right before it broke, rescuing three muggle children in the process.

Her sense of fashion, much to Victoire's approval, who still nags us for our detestable taste in clothes, improved and moved from reckless rebel to reckless fashionista. Also, her transition from free spirit to working girl forced her to clean up her act a little bit. Just recently she took over the management of her father's rock band, Devil-May-Care. Her dad and all the band members had been major James Bond buffs in their late teens, and so the name Devil-May-Care, also the name of Ian Fleming's (creator of the James Bond character) 36th James Bond novel seemed appropriate. The band's previous manager dropped off the face of the earth quite suddenly and also suspiciously, and it took seven months of missed concert dates and press conferences for Garrick Grace to start looking for a new manager. When his attempts failed miserably, Gigi volunteered her services. She has volunteered her services for the past four months now, enabling the band to bounce back from their two year frump and hit the Top-Song charts once again.

There was something that Allie said back in school that seemed to ring true when we all come to full circle with our careers, save for mine of course because I have yet to become the star I was born to be, and it had profound resonance in my ears. She had said: "You guys could rule the world". Sometimes I felt like that's exactly what my friends were doing in their own special ways. They still kicked butt and were the most loyal friends anyone could ask for. And we all made a point to come through for one of us who was truly in need, and there were many occasions in our friendship track-record when that support was been needed, and I could predict without fault that there would be many yet to come.

Anyway, we were sitting in the Twisted Broomstick, holding menus and I was summarizing for Starr and Victoire what my encounter with Chase Hamilton had meant. Allie already knew everything, and I called Gigi Sunday night after returning from Allie's.

"Ugh, Chase," Starr muttered. She stopped herself though, saying, "No offense, I know you loved him for a long time, probably still do, but he isn't very smart."

"Very true," Gigi remarked beside her. "But we're in control now, aren't we Melody?"

She looked at me and I smiled. "Absolutely. My loving him is irrelevant now because he busted my heart six ways from Sunday and he will never be forgiven for that. This is for Marian."

"Marian," Victoire mused, "she's such a classy lady. Why does it always have to be those people, the people who do no harm and have never thought of doing harm their entire lives who get punished? It's so unfair."

I choked down the tears, "Ya think. I don't think I'll ever face this fact. I'll probably burst into tears as soon as I see her tomorrow."

Allie piped up from beside me, "Speaking of tomorrow, how are you getting to Saint-Raphael?"

"I made Chase surrender his plans to go by muggle transportation and go with Apparating instead. Planes, trains and automobiles are fine and dandy, but I would rather not spend any more time with him than necessary."

"What excuse did you give him?" Gigi asked.

I smiled widely, "I told him if he made me sit in a car, on a train, or on an airplane for any amount of time he would be listening to me complain the entire way. His argument was that it would only be a two flight from Heathrow to Nice and then another hour to Saint-Raphael by car. I kind of stared at him like he was insane. I don't know what he is trying to delay."

Victoire looked thoughtful and I knew that look meant trouble. "Don't you dare tell me to have sympathy for him! I have enough sympathy as it is. It wasn't supposed to be this way. If this had never happened I would have never seen him again."

Victoire slowly shook her head in disagreement. "I highly doubt that Melody. You work in the West End, where he still lives. He's a high-class theatre nut and you're a budding theatre star. You were bound to cross paths again. But all I'm thinking is that you may be pushing your luck with him. Do you think he would have hunted you down if it weren't for his mother? Don't you think this is killing him too?"

I lolled my head from side to side in annoyance, glancing at Gigi, Allie and Starr in turn, as if asking 'You have got to be kidding me?' They shrugged their shoulders all together and I felt my resolve cracking.

"Damnit you guys," I exclaimed, "aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"We are on your side, Melody," Starr pointed out. "But Victoire has a point. What Chase is going through, knowing he will never see his mother again after these next few months, it has to be weighing down on him a lot more than this vendetta you seem to have cooked up for him. It's like you're making him do push-ups while trying to move Big Ben."

I sighed, "Point taken. I just really don't want to get hurt again. You saw what he did to me the last time...I just..."

"We know, Sweetie," Allie said as she placed her hand on my arm, calling me the only nickname I could tolerate in moderation. "We know what he did, and we still haven't forgiven him for that, of course, but maybe this isn't the time to bring up past actions when he's suffering over the loss of his mother?"

Victoire nodded. "We're not saying give up this independence and indifference towards him, because he definitely deserves some of it, but just for the time being you might want to loosen up and remember it's his mother. Instead of arguing, maybe you could try compromising with him, to make things easier."

I looked from one friend to another and conceded. My sensible friends were trying to make an irrational, spur-of-the-moment, melodramatic human being reign in her natural personality and make nice with the one person who had spurned her in what could very well be the most traumatic event in her adult life. It was human-nature for me to fight. I was a fighter. My passion was my power. These people were trying to harness a raging beast.

But, nonetheless, I conceded. "Very well," I said, conscious of the fact they had all released a little sigh of relief, "but I'll have you know that after this episode of insanity that I am embarking on, if I come back so wired and twisted beyond comprehension, it is all your faults. And it'll be your jobs to untangle me."

Gigi clapped once, "You know it, honey. We're the only ones who ever could figure you out. Strange as we all are apart, we each make up an important part of a puzzle and when one is messed up, we're all messed up."

"Yeah well, I'm sure you're all messed up right now. Who else would suggest this cockeyed scheme?" I muttered.

Starr, who sat on the other side of me, wrapped her arm around me. "Now you should know us better than that, Melody. We don't do cockeyed. We do crazy."

"Then you all belong in a mental institution," I said.

"Will you come and visit?" Starr teased.

I laughed. This was why I told these people my problems. No matter how angry they made me, nor how utterly insane their advice usually turned out to be, it was always the right answer. I knew it was the right answer too because we could still joke after all seriousness had been said. "No I won't come visit you," I said. "I'm going to be moving into the room across the hall with you loonies. Especially after this."

I made it to Chase's with minutes to spare. I really hadn't intended to be late, but there were just so many variables to consider when packing, that I packed and unpacked several outfits and then decided for and against them all over again. Finally I grabbed another suitcase and brought them all. Chase was probably going to hate me for it, as he had always disliked it when I took forever to dress. It was one of the things we had argued about constantly when we were together. It was also one of the points in the argument that occurred the morning before he'd left me completely.

And when I say left me, it was the kind slamming of the door as he exited his condo that implied I was to leave. At the implication I broke a few dishes, a lamp or two, and took a knife to the throw-pillows on the couch and then hurled my things into these exact same two suitcases, and disappeared from all good society. I went to Gigi's, who put me up for the week or so it took me to find my own flat. I moved my furniture, bought with my money, from Chase's to my new flat and created a new life for myself. I found a job, taking the step down from high-society arm accessory to working girl in the industry.

But that was neither here nor there at the moment. I wouldn't dwell on the past; it would only bring me pain.

I was let into Chase's building by the doorman and he buzzed Chase. Chase growled something into the receiver and the doorman lead me to the lift and I rode to the top with the building escort. It had always made me feel like Chase lived in a hotel. When we were together Chase would always dismiss the escort and we'd ride up together. Sometimes the conversation was stilled by passionate kisses. Sometimes we were laughing. Sometimes we were silent. It really all depended on if we'd had a fight prior to entering the lift.

I shook my head as the lift bell dinged, bringing me back to reality. I would have to stop bringing up those old and long gone memories. They were like quicksand, much like Chase himself, all handsome and charismatic. He was volatile and I was weak, so much weaker now having gone without him or any man for the past year.

Speak of the devil. As the lift doors slide open Chase was standing there looking very grim. I had upset him. This had cost him more time with his mother. I was going to try and look at these things from his perspective from now on, like my friends had suggested. I just hoped he'd believe me.

"I tried to leave on time, Chase, I really did," I begged in my defense.

Chase grunted and grabbed my bags, turning back up the hall towards his condo. I guess his faith in me was yet to be determined. But I also hadn't really earned any grace period yet, so his response was justified. I nodded my thanks to the lift escort and I followed after Chase through the open door to see him tap his wand over the pile of luggage. I guessed he'd been waiting for my bags to send our luggage to Saint-Raphael instead of doing it twice.

"Are you ready?" he turned and asked me.

I looked at him and saw the anger had died to a slow simmer and although still upset, he was less so than before. I smiled and stepped forward. "I am."

I assumed we were Apparating so I closed my eyes to think really hard on what little memories I had left of the Hamilton's Saint-Raphael home. I had been there only once and only for about a week so the memory was a little fuzzy. I hoped I didn't splinch myself in this Apparation attempt because that would just not feel good on top of everything else I was worrying about.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply to clear my head. When I inhaled though, I drew in the sweet musky scent of Chase at the same time. He had been standing about ten feet away from me when I'd closed my eyes and I hadn't been able to smell him then. Why?...

I opened my eyes to find myself staring at 195 pounds of solid muscle, covered in a pale blue, button-up shirt. I tilted my head back only to see Chase peering down at me curiously. I cleared my throat and took a small step back. Distance was needed desperately.

He arched his eyebrow, amused by my need to recede from him so quickly. He then held up a small crystal box. I recognized the object. It had been in the apartment when I was living here. It had never been more than a decoration and yet he was holding it between us as if it had a special purpose. It wasn't a gift, I knew that much. I had never shown an interest in it before. This time I arched my eyebrow in question.

"I thought a compromise might be in order; a Portkey to take us to Saint-Raphael. You seemed uncertain about muggle transportation as well as Apparation. I realize now that it's been a long time since you were in Saint-Raphael. This will ensure us safety without the risk of splinching that gorgeous body of yours." His mouth turned up as he spoke the last words.

His consideration was touching yet it was brushed aside when my entire body responded to the soft growl he used when saying "gorgeous body" while giving me the once-over.

I wanted to get it all over with; the trip, the month, the entire encounter with Chase. Until I was free of him I would never be stable. I would never be free of him until I was actually free of him! He had to get out of my life completely and when that happened I wouldn't wallow in my misery for the next year. I would walk away with my head held high and never look back.

I took a step forward; my hand outstretched and touched a finger to the crystal box. In that second we were whirling with time and space was whizzing by us. I could see his face, his hair whipping in the wind that our travel created. His face was calm and placid as he had done this a thousand times before. Magic almost became dull after a time. At least it had for him. Chase hadn't bothered to do more than simple magic since taking over a leading role in his father's business. He used to say "magic has no business being in the business world". It made for quicker travel, faster note dictation, instantaneous filing, but when it came down to the bottom line, it was still a merger between people that was created, and for that you needed people skills, which couldn't be gleaned from magic.

I had often thought the same about the theatre. At least in some instances, where you couldn't mimic a speech written by William Shakespeare or play a role that brought the crowd to tears with magic. That was a different kind of magic altogether. Sets and stage designs could be altered using magic, and it made life easier. But my idea of magic didn't come from a wand anymore. Some lives were based on the power of magic, such as Victoire's uncle, Harry Potter. His life had depended on the use of magic. Mine never had.

I noticed the whirling feeling slow down and I prepared myself for our landing. One foot hit something solid, and then the other. Time stood still once more and for a moment all was well. Until my foot slipped.

Somehow we had landed on the very ledge of the deck of the Hamilton summer home. I could have blamed Chase for doing this on purpose, but that was just my dramatic nature flaring up. I slipped and plummeted downwards. There was a twenty-five foot drop between the deck and the sand below, and although it wouldn't hurt me that much, it was still twenty feet more than I would have liked. I let out a squeal as I went down and reached up to grasp at the deck siding. My fingers just caught on to it, and I held on for dear life.

Chase leapt to action, discarding the crystal box he had been holding, sliding it across the deck, managing to get it to go right into the pool. He reached down and grabbed at my hands. "Let go of the deck, I've got you. Trust me," he said.

I didn't trust him any further than I could throw him, yet in this instance, he was my only choice. As soon as I felt he wouldn't drop me I did as he said and let go. I was floating in the air for a few seconds, holding my breath. Then, with as much ease as it was for him to lift a feather, he lifted me and set my feet back on the deck. I swayed on the spot and his arms were caught up around me in a flash.

I had to give a small smile at that. He hadn't changed very much at all. He still had to be the hero of every situation. The thought sobered me however as I remembered he hadn't changed, and he still had to be the hero, and he still would never find me suitable to marry. There was too much at stake for him, and I wasn't fit to shine his shoes according to his father.

I pushed slightly on his chest, making him take a step back instead of stepping back from him myself, knowing that would just be pushing myself off the deck again. He stepped back kindly and let me pass. I took three steps before coming to a halt as I stared at the house in front of me. It had been a long time since I was here, but seeing this house again made the memories flood back to me.

The house was a majestic gold color, glinting in the afternoon sun. To my right there was a sparkling blue pool, around which stood several chaise lounges and sun chairs. There was a table with a floral-patterned umbrella standing slightly off to the side, as well as an outside wet bar that was used for entertaining. To my left the large deck reached out like a peninsula, which allowed spectators to gaze out over the Mediterranean Sea. I looked back at the house, fascinated by the creeping ivy that covered part of the house, stretching over large glass doors and grand windows. The second floor boasted the best views with a deck that wrapped around the entire upper part of the house. Window pots hung onto the wrought iron railings, draped with ivy geraniums and alyssum of bright pinks and white.

In short, it took my breath away. I turned from the sight to see Chase staring at me inquisitively. "What?" I asked a little derisively. I was being defensive; he had no reason to look at me like that. It was unsettling.

He quirked his eyebrow at my impudence and immediately I remembered my plan to be nice to him. I brought a little smile to my face and he relaxed slightly. "I just remember the same look on your face the first time we came here. You had the same fire and wonder and look of awe when you saw it."

I could feel the colour rush to my cheeks. So apparently I was not the only one having horrible memory flash-backs. Though, from the smile on his face I wouldn't exactly describe this recollection of his, as horrible. Mine weren't horrible either. It was just him that made them horrible. He was horribly addictive and it was horrible that I was in serious trouble if I found myself falling back into step with this man. He had ruined me for all other men a year ago and I was just beginning to recover. If this didn't end sooner rather than later, I would fall all over again and I would be ruined for all eternity. I took a deep breath, put on my best actress smile and said, "It's still as beautiful as then. That's the only reason."

He shook his head and chuckled lightly. Taking steps forward and then moving to go past me he said in a low growl, "It's more than that, Melody, and you and I both know it."

He shuffled past me and went directly into the patio doors that opened out onto the deck. I glared at the back of his receding head and huffed out a displeased sigh. He could see right through me, still. I then felt a slow sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. If he could still see through me, he would still win and I would be a puddle before the week was out. Shit!

I debated leaving him there in a clinch, having to explain to Marian why I was all of a sudden gone, but I knew that would only bring her mood down and that wasn't my goal. My head was spinning. All these emotions were just too much for me. I was an actress and by nature an emotional person, but never before like this. It had happened only once before and it had been for all different reasons. The result was getting rip-roaring drunk for three days and considering burning all of Chase's furniture. I hadn't of course, because he never would have forgiven me for that and he kept denying his actions. Instead I broke his favourite plate. I figured that's exactly what I would do now: have a drink and break a plate. It worked so well the last time. He wasn't denying his actions this time, actions I had been certain of, but from the emotions swirling around my head, it sure as shit felt like he'd cheated on me again.


End file.
